


seeking (something)

by 17OpenTabs



Category: Yandere Simulator (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Role Reversal, Slow Burn, Stalking, Yandere Taro Yamada
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:14:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10035815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17OpenTabs/pseuds/17OpenTabs
Summary: Ayano comes to realize that both her parents smile with empty eyes, empty eyes reflecting their empty, hollow child. Unfortunately, her mother's wider, more expressive smile feels too plastic on her face, even for Ayano, who is always just pretending.or,Ayano Aishi takes after her father most.Passive!Ayano, Yandere!Taro.





	1. For What

Ayano wakes up on the day she starts high school to an empty house and a vague voicemail left by her mother. It tells her nothing, except that neither of her parents will be back for at least a couple of months. There is a note, written in her father's neat, uniform handwriting, but it might as well have been penned by her mother as well, for all that it doesn't tell her.

' _Maybe you'll find yourself a Senpai soon, hmm dear? We really must be going soon, Ayano! Take care of yourself, won't you?_ '

Ayano stares at the phone as the message ends and the sound of her mother's airy, drawling tone is no more, waiting for something she hasn't yet experienced - something, anything.

As always, there is nothing.

She puts down her phone and heads to the kitchen to make herself breakfast. It's all the same, she reminds herself dully. At times like this, the silence surrounding her kind of matches the feeling of hollowness in her chest, like she's physically missing something, as if there's a literal hole inside her and she doesn't quite know how to fill it.

But that's not true, not really. Ayano can feel and hear the low thudding of her heart, soft and rhythmic and monotonous - beating and pumping blood through an empty husk.   
An empty husk, and an empty house. At times like these, she doesn't feel quite so strange.

* * *

Ayano doesn't quite know how her parents got together. They seem so poorly matched, somehow - her mother's deliberate intent and saccharine demeanor, coupled with her jittery, resigned father, look and feel a little like two jigsaw pieces not meant to fit, and yet having been forcibly put together. She imagines two such pieces in her hand, stuck and mismatched - pulling them apart, only to realize they've been bent out of shape.

Her father often looks at her with wary apprehension when he thinks she's not looking, sometimes with outright fear. For a long time she thinks it's because he can tell she's pretending - always pretending, always acting, forever letting vapid displays of emotion flutter across her face while she feels only nothingness inside. She's lacking something, she knows. Perhaps there's something to be feared in that - not that she would know, of course. She's never been fearful in her life.

Ayano comes to realize that both her parents smile with empty eyes, empty eyes reflecting their empty, hollow child. Unfortunately, her mother's wider, more expressive smile feels too plastic on her face, even for Ayano, who is always just pretending. She settles for mimicking her father's, instead.

It's a small, tired one. Just waiting, waiting, when there's nothing to wait for, forever waiting. She's waiting, too, waiting for something she doesn't know. It'll come, or it won't, and in the end it'll all be the same.

Is she reaching the end yet?

* * *

She steps out through the threshold of her home, and locks the door behind her. It's a nice, sunny day and she likes the way her skin is bathed in the warmth of daylight.

Ayano walks to school.

There are other students, dressed in the same uniforms and walking the same way she is. Many are looking down at their phones, engrossed - she feels her hand reaching into her bag to follow suit - and some are ambling along with friends, surrounding her in a light hum of chatter. This is pleasant, she thinks, as she deletes the message from her mother, and swipes her thumb across the screen absentmindedly. There's no one she knows who she can text - perhaps she should download some games? They've never held her lackluster interest for very long, admittedly, but it passed the time, regardless. It seemed that emotions were necessary to enjoy even that.

How troublesome.

She continues walking to where she knows Akademi High is, mechanically scrolling and swiping across the screen of her phone while her thoughts wander. It's only when she distractedly turns at a corner that she walks straight into another person.

Ayano falls back with a soft 'oof', hands meeting the pavement before she can slam spine-first onto the ground. She winces at the slight sting on her palms, as she looks up at the person she's run into. It's a boy, also dressed in Akademi's uniform - he's staring back at her, looking dazed.

She should be feeling concerned, she remembers. "Are you alright?" Her tone falls flat, as it is wont to. The boy - an upperclassman, perhaps - flushes and begins apologizing for knocking her over, reaching out to try and help her up.

Ayano gets up by herself, picking up the strap of her bag as she gets to her feet. "No, it's my fault. I should have watched where I was going."

He's still looking at her strangely, as if he's going to say something - can he see her emptiness? Surely not. - and she decides not to stick around for any awkward attempts at conversation. She bids him goodbye with a quiet voice and a short bow, feeling a prickle at her neck as she continues on her way, speeding up her pace into a brisk walk. Something about him makes her uncomfortable.

* * *

Ayano takes after her mother, in many ways. They have the same dark, straight hair, and blank gray eyes - she knows that she looks very similar to her mother when she was younger, from pictures taken along with her father years ago.

Her father is handsome, she supposes, in a distant, washed out sort of way, like a picture in grayscale. Next to him, Ryouba Aishi stands composed of harsh colors, like the glare of sunlight in a mirror; turning what should be bright and warm into something painful to look at.

They have the same condition, she finds out, only it's difficult to believe, with the way her mother behaves. Each and every one of her expressions, from adoration to sharp, shrill laughter, are strange and foreign on Ayano's small, blank face when she tries to mimic them in the mirror. She quickly grows tired, and stops, her cheeks aching.

Her mother reassures her, in the pitched, gleeful tone she's accustomed to, that one day she'll meet someone who makes her _feel_. Ayano's not looking at her mother as she reminisces, however - over Ryouba's shoulder is her father's face, pale with what she knows is fear.

Part of that look is directed at her, as well. It's not fair, she thinks. Ayano is also washed out, stripped of color.

Her mother's love hurts, and she's not angry at being judged. Ayano is never angry.

* * *

The days go by slowly as she settles into a routine. Ayano makes friends, smiling and chatting and offering soft compliments as best she can. She's the quiet one, the shy one - her classmates are kind, and they try to draw her into their folds, though she still removes herself when it feels like too much, like there're too many people looking at her, enough to pick away at the smile she's affixed on her face. All in all, she's fine, comfortable.

Some of the other first years are looking to join clubs. Some of the more social, cheery girls have banded together to join the cooking club, and she doesn't quite have the motivation to follow them. She's not sure what club to join, or even that she should, if she would fit into a little group with any shared interest. After all, she has nothing to contribute, not even enthusiasm. Her classmates pull her along to tour the club rooms anyway, and she follows them quietly without much protest.

The Photography Club is full of colorful characters, and while she watches their energetic display wistfully, the ten minutes they spend in their club room find her quickly exhausted, so she allows herself to fade quietly into the background and be overlooked in favor of her more exuberant classmates. They don't stay long at the Occult Club, and the members hardly seemed disappointed to be left to their own privacy. The Art Club and the Light Music Club attracts the attention of some with the corresponding interests, but Ayano continues to other clubs with little thought.

The Martial Arts Club's members do a demonstration, and their club leader gives them a short but enthusiastic introduction. They're impressive, she thinks, as they execute their forms in synchronisation, but there are few amongst their little group of first years who show interest in picking up martial arts. The members are a serious, if friendly lot, and interestingly disciplined as they practice.

“Ever learnt?”

Ayano tears her eyes away from two members sparring to look up at Budo Masuta, who's smiling broadly in encouragement. She and her classmates are seated on the floor to watch the spar, and she hangs quietly at the back while others ooh and aah appreciatively.

She doesn't quite shy away from him, but she does meet his gaze impassively. “No.” _A little._ Her mother is very proficient, and of the mind that Ayano could be, as well, but it makes her father anxious, so she stopped a long time ago.

He doesn't seem deterred by her curt reply, and grins, eyes crinkling. “Would you like to try? You seem like a hard working sort of person. Maybe you'll like it here.”

Ayano stares, slightly taken aback. Hardworking? Her? She's given up so many times and on so many things that she doesn't even know why she's doing anything anymore. “I'm not, really.” She pauses, shifting her gaze away somewhat uncomfortably.

He seems to catch the hint, and his smile is patient from where she sees it out of the corner of her eye. “Think about it, okay? I think you’d really enjoy yourself if you give it a chance.”

“...Okay.” Ayano clears her throat, feeling awkward - but strangely thankful. “I’ll… think about it. Thanks.”

As she watches the upperclassmen continue with their demonstration, she chews on the inside of her cheek. _Maybe_.

* * *

One week into her high school year, Ayano walks home alone.

The streets grow quiet as she leaves the town's central area, into the neighbourhood where she lives - but she hardly notices, as the white noise fades into the background, and her footsteps become the only distinct sound to reach her ears apart the whistle of the breeze. Ayano’s thoughts are far away, everywhere and nowhere.

She is rarely intrigued, by anything or anyone. To be perfectly frank, Ayano is not that interested in martial arts, or the club, or its members, or its exuberant club leader, and she is unlikely to become so. That is not what has captured her attention.

But she has always liked - in her own way - physical activity. Sports and exercise have never required her to contemplate her shortfalls, only to do, run, try, become faster, stronger. Ayano has never had reasons for her actions, never had anything to spur her on, but if there is one thing she can claim to properly dislike is feeling _weak_ , on top of being incomplete. While her mind and heart will forever remain cold and barren and detached, her body grants her the small mercy of _feeling_.

She is not masochistic, to be clear. Ayano has tried to use pain to stir emotion in herself. It has never worked before.

Perhaps she _should_ try. It seems… productive. And wasn’t that her entire life - her entire _existence_ \- doing and doing and gaining, all for nothing?

And maybe she shouldn’t. It wouldn't make any difference. After all -

A shuffling sound interrupts her thoughts, and she looks around instinctively, expecting a stray cat, or someone else walking along the street. But she’s alone, with no one else in sight - perhaps she misheard?

Ayano continues on her way, gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter in spite of herself.

She hears nothing else for the remainder of her walk home, but the silence around her is suddenly very loud, the air around her ever so slightly colder -

She has no reason to be paranoid. None at all.

There’s a prickle at the back of her neck that makes her shoulders tense.

She has no reason to be afraid. And she’s not.

As she stands on the steps of her front door, taking out her keys, Ayano can feel her palms begin to sweat, her jaw locking in place as she clenches her teeth behind lips pressed together - not tightly, but more so than usual. She unlocks the door and enters her house, closing it behind her without incident. Once the door is locked once again, she sucks in a breath through her teeth with a low hiss.

_Someone was following her._


	2. On Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayano seeks a fighting chance, and Taro romanticizes.

_ “I always kept an eye on him, you know. I made sure he was safe.” _

Ayano remembers the look on her father’s face as the words pass her mother’s lips. Terror is such a peculiar expression - it changes one’s face almost instantly, as blood drains away and pupils constrict to pinpricks. Her father’s hands and lips tremble when he’s afraid.

Those same hands, were clenched in hatred, white-knuckled and shaking.

She’s no fool. Between her mother’s besotted ramblings and glowing recollections, Ayano sees the ‘protection’ for what it is, and cannot bring herself to care. 

And yet, now -

Now she is far less apathetic. Ayano does not sense the person who had followed her again, but there is a almost always a  _ feeling _ , of someone watching her - and she hates it. It’s a feeling she’s unused to, turning a previously manageable discomfort at being around people into an ever-present sense of someone’s prying eyes trained on her. She’s never been claustrophobic, but more often than not she starts to feel that the walls around her closing in, trapping her where  _ someone is always watching _ \- 

Ayano thinks of her father, suffocated and trapped in a life and a house and to a wife with nothing else but an end to wait for, and the long, blank road she sees stretched out before her is suddenly frighteningly narrow, with white walls on each side and too little air to breathe. 

If she had been thinking clearly, with her usual clinical detachment, she would have considered to wait and see if it were only temporary, if it might pass with time, if that person meant any harm - but she is not. Ayano has no proof to go to the police with, and they won't waste their time on paranoia, never mind that she  _ knows _ someone is there. There are little crescents in her clammy palms where her fingernails now perpetually digging into her skin and her entire body aches with more than a week’s worth of tension  _ and she is not calm _ .

She _ hates _ this. She hates being helpless, and she hates being watched, and she hates the thought that someone thinks they can do this to her, infringe on her space and thin the very air she breathes. 

And most of all, she hates that she is forced to do nothing.

* * *

She begins losing her things.

At first, it’s small things - a hair clip, a pen, things that she would have chalked up to her own misplacing them even with the spectre of a someone following her home and around the school. Then Ayano finds the toothbrush she keeps in her locker missing from the girl’s changing room, and she starts looking over all her possessions, suspicious and paranoid. 

The missing items she reports to the counsellor, who suggests that someone might be playing pranks on her, and asks if there is anyone who might dislike her enough to do this? There isn't, and that isn't her problem anyway. Ayano can't quite confess, to the teacher's stern face, that someone might be stalking her, because no matter how hard she tries she just can't find out who it is or how they're doing this, and if she  _ could _ she would - she would -

She loses the key to her locker in the girls’ bathroom, and the next day she clears it out entirely to lock up safely at home - is home safe? The thought is enough to keep her wide awake for three nights. Ayano has never felt the absence of her parents so keenly.

She wonders if wanting them home is a good idea, and the image of her mother letting the stalker right through her front door and into her room dissolves her into a shaking wreck on her bed. Ayano is not physically incapable, but she has seen her own mother, knows that she can overpower men twice her size without significant difficulty.

Whoever it is, she doesn’t want them. She already hates them. And what are the consequences?

Ayano thinks of the Martial Arts club, of Budo Masuta’s encouraging grin, and the members’ confident discipline. For all her usual introversion, she doesn’t think she can stand being alone for much longer - and she wants a chance. Just a chance, to escape her father’s fate.

* * *

“I want to join the Martial Arts Club.”

Her voice is even and decisive - Ayano is the most certain she’s been in two weeks, as she meets Masuta’s eyes. He is clearly surprised, but the following smile tells her he’s pleasantly so.

“In that case, welcome! You’re a little late, so you’ll be behind the rest, but I’m sure you’ll catch up in no time.” He beams at her, and she offers a small smile in reply, largely out of politeness. “I thought you wouldn’t join us after all. Ah, may I ask why you changed your mind?”

Ayano bites her lip slightly. She couldn’t just tell him the truth - or, at least, not the whole truth. “I didn’t change my mind. I just took a bit longer to decide.”

“I see.” He beckons her towards a storage cupboard at the corner of the club room, and retrieves a headband for her, the warm smile still fixed on his face. “Well, I’m glad you’re here now.” She takes the strip of cloth after a moment’s hesitation, and clutches it contemplatively.

Every club in Akademi High School has its own identifier. It's how you know, at a glance, who is a part of which club and what their interests are, even what sort of person they might be. 

The fabric is crisp in her hands, neatly pressed and folded. She holds it gingerly, hesitant to unfold the strip of cloth and ruin its immaculate appearance.

Ayano knows that the Martial Arts Club members are, broadly speaking, courageous and dedicated - characteristics, amongst many others, that she decidedly does not possess. That is why she had not decided to join a club sooner, although she has spent her whole life behind a facade, because she doesn't think she will be able to fake her way through this. 

Sooner or later, someone will figure her out, see her for the empty, featureless slate she is and will likely remain. Is she only perpetuating her own sense of alienation, stepping away from the shadows towards the light, where all her shortcomings will be bare for all to see?

And yet, she  _ has _ to do this. The alternative is allowing herself to be a sitting duck, defenselessly awaiting the same fate her father has been resigned to, and that is unacceptable. 

“...It's okay if you would rather not wear it right away.”

Her gaze snaps to meet Budo Masuta’s, whose eyes are uncomfortably understanding. Ayano reigns in a frown - what could he possibly understand about her? - and bites her lip, berating herself for lingering too long, lost in thought. 

Before she can find the words to speak, however, he continues, “We wear these headbands to make everyone feel like they're a part of this club, and to show our dedication to practicing martial arts. Everyone here joined this club for a reason, and those reasons bring us together.” 

Masuta smiles, earnest and patient, and Ayano is unable to shake off the weight of his gaze, which feels too scrutinising for her comfort. 

“You joined for a reason too, right? I won't ask what it is. But for now, since you've just started, it's alright if you're not comfortable wearing that headband. It can wait until you're used to being a member of the club.”

Whatever non-committal reply she had been preparing vanishes from her mind entirely, and Ayano can only stare, speechless, at her upperclassman.

The tension that she has been carrying around all week doesn't disappear, and the overbearing sense of being backed into a corner with her means of escape rapidly diminishing is still there. The stalker is still present, and Ayano does not feel safe - no mere words can do that.

And yet, a moment passes in which she forgets about the threat hanging over her head like a dark cloud, and is suddenly faced with an unprecedented choice. Masuta’s eyes are kind, in the way that she has never really comprehended. 

“...Thank you.” Her voice is quiet, and Ayano is still dazed, but she knows she has been heard.

“It's no trouble.” The broad grin that stretches across his face feels warm, like that of sunlight on her skin. “Practices are every day after school, but we also come here to train in between classes. 

Feel free to stop by whenever you'd like - you only have to come at least once a week for now.”

Ayano feels compelled to muster a smile, slight but present. It's easier than she expects it to be.

* * *

Two weeks ago, on the first day of school, Taro Yamada bumped into a girl with somber eyes, and was immediately entranced.

Taro is used to a certain reaction, when it comes to girls. He doesn’t say this to be arrogant, but it happens often enough he has begun to regard it as the norm. 

He tries to be kind to them, of course he does, but every time he has to pretend to be oblivious while a girl he is objectively not interested in tries to gives him gifts or compliments with a red-tinted cheeks that have long ceased to be endearing, refusing to meet his eyes in embarrassment, he cannot help but feel frustrated. They are all the same, wide-eyed and sweet and infatuated, so much that their faces have blurred together in his memory, with nothing remarkable to set each one apart. Even Osana, who is rude and defensive and  constantly denies liking him even without being pressed, expresses her supposed affection in the same cookie-cutter means.

Ayano Aishi is not like that.

There is a secret hidden behind her solemn eyes, something mysterious and intriguing that is obscured by polite smiles and a quiet demeanour. On the surface, she is merely a shy, reserved wallflower, more than willing to blend into the background - but Taro knows there is more than that. He sees the way her eyes so often stray absentmindedly, her thoughts flown far away from where she is, stuck in a classroom in their proper little school in a quiet little neighbourhood, surrounded by people who have no hope of understanding her.

Taro remembers extending a hand to help her up from where he'd knocked her down, only to be rejected when she stood up by herself, unfazed by the - charm - he had already taken for granted. In that moment, he thinks she might have seen past the gentlemanly air he has adopted, mostly out of habit and politeness, and imagines that there's no need for such a facade. 

The mystery only thickens from there, as he feels his eyes helplessly drawn towards her whenever she comes within line of sight, compelling him to obey the whims of his attraction without question. 

Taro watches her around the school, and watches the way she keeps to herself, withdrawing from the crowd of other first-years, whose faces Taro does not bother to commit to memory. For all that she tries to blend in with her classmates, Ayano is the only one he sees.

He doesn't want to cheapen these feelings by fixating on her appearance, but there's plenty to admire. Ayano is a girl of modest stature, but classically beautiful features, from her long lashes to the slant of her cheekbones.

She is most beautiful when deep in contemplation, as he discovers when he follows her on the path home. Alone, she seems doubly distracted, even when walking alone on an empty street. She's not left unprotected, though. Taro makes sure she reaches home safe every day for a week or so, but on the ninth day, she seems to notice something and becomes a little unsettled, so he stops for a little while. It is only natural for a private person like Ayano to get uncomfortable easily, although Taro is sure that that will change, in the future. 

Throughout the following week, he finds himself lucky enough to obtain several small items that belong to Ayano, and hides them away in a box in his bedroom. The key to her locker room he finds sticking out of her bag beside the sports track when her class is taking P.E.. It's only after it is safely in his pocket that he abandons the idea of returning it under the pretense of finding it somewhere. He'll hold on to it a little longer.

He resumes his after-school observation a few days later, and resolves to be more careful. 

Right now, he peers out at her departing form from his hiding place. Ayano walks purposefully, and there is no sign that she will allow herself to become lost in thought. Perhaps something is troubling her? He should pay more attention to her at school. It wouldn't do for anyone to be causing her trouble. 

She had left school a little later today, and he'd waited at the school gates for an extra ten minutes before he spotted her. Osana must be annoyed, he thinks absentmindedly. He has refused to walk home with her for too many days in a row, citing some excuse or other. Maybe he should walk with her tomorrow, just to allay her suspicions.

There is never anyone home when Ayano returns to her house, and eventually he concludes that her parents are not home. She seems like a responsible girl, and never plays loud music or go out late at night even without supervision. She does, however, like to keep all her blinds closed.

Taro wants to  _ know _ her. He wants to unravel her mystery, discover the secret behind her guarded eyes. There's a warm feeling that spreads through his ribcage when he thinks of being the one to understand her in a way no one else will be able to. 

Is this love? It must be, Taro thinks with a smile, resolving to cherish it like the treasure it is.

Other people can have the little glimpses at Ayano Aishi’s mask. Taro does not care for the front she puts on for the world, the way that she does not mind his. In the end, he will have her in the only way that matters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing from the perspective of stalker!Taro is... something.
> 
> This chapter is not as long as I would have liked, considering I took more than a month to write it. Still, it was nice adding to this story, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it.
> 
> Many thanks to all the readers who took the time to comment on the first chapter!


	3. Perception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Complications arise for Taro. As expected.

Ayano does not join the Martial Arts club for practice that day.

The club's signature headband lies in her bag, still neatly folded and carefully preserved in its meticulous form, but she doesn't yet have an gi, and she has already strayed too far from her usual introversion for one day. Masuta seemed to understand that well enough, at least, and assures her that she has plenty of time.

Instead, she returns home, and bears the weight of watching eyes with grim determination.

Ayano takes the same route back to her house that she always does, enters the front door and locks it securely behind her - and allows herself to breathe deeply, filling her lungs with air. The tension that slips from its place in her shoulders falls away a little more than usual, in the limited security that her enclosed home affords.

Her hands are cold as she goes through the house, making sure that all the blinds are closed the way she left them, trying to see if anything is out of place in her room. Nothing appears to have been touched since she left that morning, and it seems that the stalker has not yet infringed on the privacy of her house.

Is it due to the lack of means? Do they not intend to further intrude on her life? Ayano cannot find it in herself to be grateful for this.

...A fellow student would not have the time to invade her home while she is away at school, she muses. A student would have the means to steal her belongings, and keep their watchful gaze trained on her in the day.

But, that is not a particularly astounding conclusion to have arrived at.

Ayano knows very little about her stalker - that awareness is a constant itch lingering on her skin, a reminder that she is, in many respects, helpless against their prying eyes. Joining the Martial Arts club will help eliminate one of her current weaknesses, but self-defense does not being her any closer to discerning the identity of the stalker.

She cannot simply set up defenses and hope that they will somehow be discouraged. If the stalker is anything like she thinks they are - anything like her own mother - this will never simply blow over on its own. Ayano knows that it is never that easy.

Just protecting herself is… insufficient.

* * *

Osana Najimi is in love with her best friend.

She’s known for years now, ever since middle school, a precious truth she keeps close to her heart and guarded with harsh words and Taro kept an arm’s length away at all times. Osana doesn’t really remember when she started loving him, only that moment after school three years ago when she looked at her childhood companion and thought to herself - oh.

It was easy to accept, but not as easy to deal with - it makes her feel both warm and vulnerable, brings quiet smiles to her lips just as often as anxiety flutters around like moths in her ribs. Taro is kind and patient and handsome and her best friend in the whole world, almost as if the universe had presented him to her itself all those years ago, a promise in every gentle smile.

 _I’ll never leave you,_ she hears, every time he shrugs off her scoldings with a chuckle and no anger in his eyes (she doesn’t mean to, Osana doesn’t think he’s stupid or lazy, she’s scared and nervous and things slip out).

 _I’m in love with you,_ she wants to say, every morning when he walks up to her in front of her house to head off to school.

 _This is your soulmate,_ the breeze whispers in her ear as they walk home together in the evening.

She’s waited and waited for weeks and months and years now, for Taro to give her a sign, for the words to finally come out of her mouth, for _something_ , and now it looks like she’s waited a little too long. His eyes stray whenever they sit together during lunchtime, attention wandering over to the first years with a - wistful? - expression on his face. There’s never anyone looking back, but that doesn’t mean anything - Osana still feels fear solidifying a lump in her throat before she opens her mouth and says things she doesn’t mean, _again_ , berating him for daydreaming while she’s talking to him.

He doesn’t walk home with her every day anymore, making some excuse or other when she texts him to ask where he is as she waits for him outside the school gate. Every text that reads, ‘ _got something to take care of, you go on ahead’_ makes the doubts echo louder and louder in her head, and at night she sits on her bed with dread a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Osana Najimi is in love with Taro Yamada.

There is no one else in the world who needs him like she does. Osana doesn’t have that many friends, and her parents both work day and night with little free time for their only child. Taro is the center of her world. She’s never been more sure of anything in her life - the thought of losing him hangs over her head, awful and foreboding.

Whoever it is that Taro is looking at - perhaps they don’t know he’s noticed them yet. Maybe Taro doesn’t know that girl that well yet. She still has a chance to tell Taro she has feelings for him.

Doesn’t she?

* * *

“Hey, uh, Aishi-san?”

Ayano turns around at the sound of an unfamiliar voice calling her name, to see a boy standing behind her with an awkward-looking smile on his face. He's not from her class, is her first thought - before she registers the obvious headband of the Martial Arts Club wrapped around his forehead. The same headband, she's reminded for about the fifth time that day, that’s still sitting undisturbed in her bookbag because she hasn't yet convinced herself to put it on like a normal person.

He shifts about for a moment, looking unsure, and Ayano doesn't have to be particularly astute to figure out why he's hesitating. “That's me.” She responds, trying not to sound too curt, and watches the boy visibly sag in relief.

Ayano wonders what he would have done if he had mixed her up with someone else. He looks like he would shrivel up on the spot out of embarrassment.

“Oh, thank goodness.” He chuckles, clearly self-conscious. “I wasn't sure how I would find you, because Masuta-senpai said you probably wouldn't be wearing the headband and I was kind of hoping you were anyway, although he said that… was…”

She tamps down the urge to frown, feeling the barest prickle of irritation, and - there it is, he's curling into himself with his ears looking flushed. “Uh… a-anyway… My name is Juku Ren, nice  to meet you!”

Ayano nods and tries to smile. It feels too stiff on her face. “Ayano Aishi. It's nice to meet you too, Ren-san.” There's a moment of silence. “Was there something you needed?”

“...Yes!” Ren’s face lights up at the reminder of what he had approached her to do. “Shita-san and I have been eating lunch together this week, since we're both part of the Martial Arts Club! So, I was wondering if you'd like to join us.” There's a hopeful glint in his eye, and it's her turn to fidget, the familiar sensation of anxiety crawling on her skin.

 _You can't say no,_ murmurs an insistent voice in her head, _That would be weird, you don't have anywhere else to be._

_Stop being so strange._

“Okay.” Ayano retrieves her bento from her bookbag and forces herself to smile properly as she's turned away from Ren, putting on the amiable expression she's practiced a thousand times in the mirror with the faces of her peers in mind. He smiles back at her, seemingly more at ease now, and Ayano lets herself relax a little. “Let's go.”

* * *

“ _We're meeting at the rooftop for lunch! You'd better be there, okay?”_

Taro sighs as he recalls Osana’s last words to him right before they'd parted ways to their respective classes in the morning, leaving no room for argument - or excuses. She'd even sent him a text after second period to remind him, and had been... _on edge_ , during their walk to school.

He hasn't laid eyes on his Ayano-chan all day, too preoccupied with Osana demanding his attention in the morning to look for her before class. His best friend had seemed determined to cling to him even more aggressively than normal, and he hadn't wanted to raise her suspicions too much by looking for Ayano in the crowd. Taro would much rather spend his lunch period observing his kouhai, but he knows that Osana will undoubtedly go looking for him if she doesn't find him at the meeting spot.

And so he makes his way up to the roof, resigned and vaguely annoyed. Of course, he'd already spent the whole of last week trailing after Ayano-chan during lunch period, and Osana is probably wondering what he had been doing - perhaps this would be a good opportunity to assure her that nothing was out of the ordinary after all.

When he reaches their usual lunch spot on the rooftop, Osana is already sitting on the bench, shifting her legs in clear impatience. Taro can already hear her berate him for making her wait, even though he’d hardly spent five minutes in his classroom after the bell rang, because she always does and it’s just something he’s used to, coming from Osana.

Most days he doesn’t pay her abrasive nature any mind. Osana is never especially hurtful; Taro knows she doesn’t mean half of the things she says, although he couldn’t possibly return her feelings.

Especially not now that he has Ayano. That doesn't mean she's not still his friend - a good friend, at that, and Taro knows she doesn't quite have anyone else. The infatuations always fade with time; he is confident that this will be no different.

There’s another girl sitting near where Osana is as he makes his way towards her, unhurried. She’s probably a first year, and is wearing one of the Martial Arts Club’s headbands - although, Taro doesn’t pay attention to any of the first years aside from Ayano-chan, so he wouldn’t know for sure. He’s certainly not familiar with her, and there aren’t that many members in the Martial Arts Club anyway.

“Hey Osana.” He smiles benignly at his friend, who jumps at his approach and responds to his greeting with the requisite complaints, her cheeks flushed. Taro tries not to look as unmoved as he feels, and plasters a sheepish smile on his face in an effort to appease her.

Her earlier nervousness doesn't seem to have subsided, and he's really becoming somewhat concerned. Osana likes to hide her bouts of anxiety behind insults and false bravado, but she's not often this jittery, and he knows he's been too distracted these couple of weeks to have noticed if she'd been worrying over anything in particular during that time.

“Is… everything okay?” Taro smiles, beseeching, knowing that this always succeeds in wearing his childhood friend down. Really, Osana is predictably soft-hearted. “You seem stressed.”

“I-It’s nothing!” She snaps, then has to look away from him, obviously trying to compose herself. “ _Anyway_ … here.”

The concern that had been gathering in his thoughts quickly dissipates as she presents him with a wrapped bento box, refusing to meet his eyes all the while. Taro is suddenly overwhelmingly annoyed, and he resists the urge to sigh audibly or take a step back to put some distance between himself and Osana’s gift.

Instead, he clears his throat awkwardly and plays dumb. “Uh, I brought a lunch already.” He lifts his own lunchbox helpfully, and cringes at himself.

Osana visibly deflates, looking so deeply disappointed that he's almost sorry for her - _almost_! Because he'd much rather be anywhere else right now, preferably looking after his Ayano-chan, and Osana is just wasting his time.

“Seriously?! I mean, I went through all that trouble, you could at least try it! I-idiot!”

Taro really, really wants to scowl. “Alright, alright.” he concedes, sensing no way out without making an unnecessary fuss out of everything. “Just so it's not wasted. You know my mother gets up early in the morning to make this for me.”

He tunes out Osana’s protests as her voice pitches into a whine, plopping down onto the bench feeling distinctly wrong-footed. His friend sits down as well, discouraged but clearly still somewhat hopeful. Taro unwraps the bento and peers at its contents, which are pleasantly presented but otherwise ineffectual at alleviating his current foul mood.

“Here I go…” Before Osana can say anything about his lacklustre reaction, he quickly takes a bite without any real desire to appreciate it.

It's delicious, which only makes everything worse.

 _It's fine, thanks,_ is what Taro attempts to mumble out in favour of a genuine response. His eyes dart away as he chews, avoiding Osana’s imploring gaze -

\- and he freezes, as his attention is snared by the image of Ayano Aishi, sitting at the other end of the rooftop with two other students. She's just close enough that he can make out the small, guarded smile on her face, quiet next to her more animated companions.

The girl sitting beside her - the Martial Arts club member, the one he noticed on his way here - catches sight of him and Osana together, and exclaims something with a look of surprise. To his dismay, both Ayano and the boy sitting with them turn their heads to stare in his direction.

He makes eye contact with his kouhai for no more than two seconds, before he has to look away in embarrassment. What must she think, he frets, desperately wishing he could be anywhere else.

Taro sets the bento box down onto the bench beside him, hastily and with little grace. The chopsticks clatter at the rough treatment, and one rolls off the box and onto the bench - “Hey!” - as he all but jumps from his seat.

“I just remembered, I have to-” A panicked second passes as he scrambles around for a coherent excuse. “-Sensei needs to talk to me! Sorry Osana, I have to go!”

He doesn't give her a chance to muster a response before he hurries to the staircase, eager to make his escape - although he does spare a moment to sneak one last glance over at the trio across the roof.

Ayano has already turned away from the exchange, indifferent. It's clear she hadn't noticed him leaving, and while she might look back again to find him absent from his seat, the scene has likely been dismissed at face value.

Perhaps… perhaps it didn't matter. Hardly anything happened, after all. Who could possibly look at him and Osana and think they were a couple? _Impossible_ , he insists fiercely in his own head, unable to broadcast this certainty to the only person who he needs to hear it - except it doesn't seem impossible, not to the girl who pointed them out, perhaps not to Ayano.

No. No. He has to fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> This work has not been finished. It is possible that it will never be completed.
> 
> Regardless, I quite like how it turned out, so here it is. Thanks for reading till the end, and I hope you have a nice day!


End file.
